October  9,  1811: 
The  Burning  of  Chicago 

Poems  of  the  Great  Chicago  Fire 

Collected  and  Arranged  by 

Francis  J.  Gerty 


Chicago 

The  Hendricks  School  Press 

Mcmxv 


'Xhe  Great  Yire  in  (Chicago 

October  8,  9,  10,  1871 

October  ninth  is  a  day  to  be  remembered 
in  Chicago's  history  for  upon  that  day,  in 
the  year  of  1871,  the  great  Chicago  fire 
raged  at  its  highest.  Late  in  the  evening 
of  the  eighth  the  fire  had  started  in 
Dekoven  Street  and  aided  by  a  strong 
southwest  wind  it  swxpt  away  the  wooden 
structures  in  the  neighborhood  and  was 
soon  beyond  controL  Then  for  two  nights 
and  two  days  it  mowed  its  awful  way 
through  the  greatest  city  of  the  West,  leav- 
ing behind  it  a  scene  of  smoldering  ruin 
such  as  has  seldom  been  witnessed. 

The  sight  must  have  been  a  truly  ter- 
rible one.  Imagine  an  area  of  three  and 
one-third  square  miles,  black  and  smok- 
ing, covered  with  cracked  and  darkened 
stone,  twisted  pipes  and  charred  beams, 
with  fragments  of  brick  walls  standing 
here  and  there  as  the  only  tombstones  for 
the  two  hundred  and  fifty  who  lost  their 
lives,  and  you  have  some  slight  picture  of 
the  desolation  that  followed  the  fire.  Al- 
most one  hundred  thousand  were  driven 
from  their  homes.  Over  17,000  buildings 
were  destroyed,  including  all  of  those  in 

One 


^he  Great  Yire  in  Chicago 


the  business  section.  On  seventy-three 
miles  of  streets  not  a  single  habitation  was 
left  standing. 

The  sympathy  of  the  entire  world  was 
aroused  and  help  came  from  all  quarters. 
The  work  of  rebuilding  began  at  once. 
In  a  year  buildings  having  ten  miles  of 
frontage,  and  costing  $18,000,000  had  re- 
placed the  ruins.  During  the  panic  of 
1873  the  Chicago  banks  alone,  of  those 
of  all  the  large  cities,  were  not  compelled 
to  issue  certificates  of  deposits  instead  of 
paying  out  funds.  In  three  years  a  far 
greater  city  had  replaced  the  one  destroy- 
ed by  fire.  Catastrophe  had  only  served 
to  show  Chicago's  strength.  Cast  to  the 
ground  she  rose  ten-fold  powerful  and 
fairer  than  ever. 


Two 


^ohn  Boy/e  O^Ke/7/y 

A  Poem,  ""Chicago'' 

Gaunt  in  the  midst  of  the  prairie, 

She  who  \A'as  once  so  fair; 
Charred  and  rent  are  her  garments, 
Heavy  and  dark  like  cerements; 

Silent,  but  round  her  the  air 
Plaintively  wails,  "Miserere!" 

Proud  like  a  beautiful  maiden. 

Art-like  from  forehead  to  feet. 

Was  she  till  pressed  like  a  leman 

Close  to  the  breast  of  the  demon. 
Lusting  for  one  so  sweet. 

So  were  her  shoulders  laden. 

Friends  she  had,  rich  in  her  treasures: 
Shall  tlie  old  taunt  be  true, — 

Fallen,  they  turn  their  cold  faces, 

Seeking  new  wealth-gilded  places, 
Saying  we  never  knew 

Aught  of  her  smiles  or  her  pleasures? 

Silent  she  stands  on  the  prairie, 

Wrapped  in  her  tire-scathed  sheet: 

Around  her,  thank  God,  is  the  Nation, 

Weeping  for  her  desolation, 

Pouring  its  gold  at  her  feet, 

Answering  her  "Miserere!" 

Three 


X^  wight  Williams 

A  Poe?7i,  ''Chicago  in  Flames'' 

Hark!  Hark!  Hark! 

From  the  midnight's  hush  and  dark, 

Hear  a  wild  cry  of  fear 
Rising  on  the  atmosphere; 
Weird  and  shrill  the  echo  flies, 
Louder,  hoarser  clamours  rise; 
Now  a  red  gleam  skyward  darts. 
Quickly  throb  a  thousand  hearts; 
Now  they  gather  on  the  street. 
Dismal  tread  of  tramping  feet 

Fire  I    fire!!     FIRE!!! 

Peal!   Peal!   Peal! 
Bells  of  brass  and  bells  of  steel; 
How  they  ring  an  awful  chime 
Through  the  dismal  midnight  time; 
How  the  fiery  demon  gloats, 
How  he  scorns  the  brazen  throats 
Which  the  dauntless  firemen  aim 
At  his  surging  bands  of  flame; 
Ah!  but  fire  is  king  to-night. 
And  waters  yield  the  fight. 

Higher,  higher,  higher, 
Like  a  tem.pest  sweeps  the  fire. 

Street  to  street, 
Like  a  raid  of  horsem.en  fleet, 

Foiw 


^ohn  Green/eaf  Ml/iittier 


Fair  seemed  the  old;  but  fairer  still 
The  new  the  dreary  void  shall  fill 
With  dearer  homes  than  those 

o'erthrown, 
For  love  shall  lay  each  corner-stone. 

Rise,  stricken  city! — from  thee  throw 
The  ashen  sackcloth  of  thy  woe; 
And  build  as  to  Amphion's  strain. 
To  songs  of  cheer  thy  walls  again. 

How  shrivelled  in  thy  hot  distress 
The  primal  sin  of  selfishness! 
How  instant  rose,  to  take  thy  part, 
The  angel  in  the  human  heart! 

Ah !  not  in  vain  the  flames  that  tossed 

Above  thy  dreadful  holocaust; 

The  Christ  again  has  preached  through 

thee 
The  Gospel  of  Humanity. 

Then  lift  once  more  thy  towers  on  high, 
And  fret  with  spires  the  western  sky. 
To  tell  that  God  is  yet  with  us, 
And  love  is  still  miraculous. 

Nine 


Kdgar  Kllen   Foe 

from  ''''The  Bells'' 

Hear  the  loud  alarum-bells — 

Brazen  bells! 

What  a  tale  of  terror,  now,  their 

turbulency  tells! 
In  the  startled  ear  of  night 
How  they  scream  out  their  affright! 
Too  much  horrified  to  speak, 
They  can  only  shriek,  shriek, 
Out  of  tune, 
In    a  clamorous  appeal  to  the  mercy  of 

the  fire, 
In  a  mad  expostulation  with  the  deaf  and 

frantic  fire. 
Leaping  higher,  higher, 
With  a  desperate  desire 
And  a  resolute  endeavor 
Now — now  to  s.it,  or  never, 
By  the  side  of  the  pale-faced  moon. 


Ten 


^ohn  Eoy/e  O^Ke/7/y 

A  Poem,  ''Chicago'' 

Gaunt  in  the  midst  of  the  prairie, 

She  who  was  once  so  fair; 
Charred  and  rent  are  her  garments. 
Heavy  and  dark  like  cerements; 

Silent,  but  round  her  the  air 
Plaintively  wails,  "Miserere ! ' ' 

Proud  like  a  beautiful  maiden, 

Art-like  from  forehead  to  feet, 

Was  she  till  pressed  like  a  leman 

Close  to  the  breast  of  the  demon. 
Lusting  for  one  so  sweet, 

So  were  her  shoulders  laden. 

Friends  she  had,  rich  in  her  treasures; 

Shall  the  old  taunt  be  true, — 
Fallen,  they  turn  their  cold  faces, 
Seeking  new  wealth-gilded  places. 

Saying  we  never  knew 
Aught  of  her  smiles  or  her  pleasures? 

Silent  she  stands  on  the  prairie. 

Wrapped  in  her  fire-scathed  sheet: 

Around  her,  thank  God,  is  the  Nation, 

Weeping  for  her  desolation, 

Pouring  its  gold  at  her  feet, 

Answering  her  "Miserere!" 

Three 


Vi  wight  Williams 

A  Poe?ti,  ''Chicago  m  Flames'' 

Hark!  Hark!  Hark! 

From  the  midnight's  hush  and  dark, 

Hear  a  wild  cry  of  fear 
Rising  on  the  atmosphere; 
Weird  and  shrill  the  echo  flies. 
Louder,  hoarser  clamours  rise; 
Now  a  red  gleam  skyward  darts, 
Quickly  throb  a  thousand  hearts; 
Now  they  gather  on  the  street, 
Dismal  tread  of  tramping  feet 

Fire!    fire!!     FIRE!!! 

Peal!    Peal!    Peal! 
Bells  of  brass  and  bells  of  steel; 
How  they  ring  an  awful  chime 
Through  the  dismal  midnight  time; 
How  the  fiery  demon  gloats. 
How  he  scorns  the  brazen  throats 
Which  the  dauntless  firemen  aim 
At  his  surging  bands  of  flame; 
Ah!  but  hre  is  king  to-night, 
And  waters  yield  the  fight. 

Higher,  higher,  higher. 
Like  a  tempest  sweeps  the  fire. 

Street  to  street, 
Like  a  raid  of  horsemen  fleet, 

Four 


^olni  Green  leaf  Vs//iittier 


P'air  seemed  the  old;  but  fairer  still 
The  new  the  dreary  void  shall  till 
With  dearer  homes  than  those 

o'erthrovvn, 
For  love  shall  lay  each  corner-stone. 

Rise,  stricken  city! — from  thee  throw 
The  ashen  sackcloth  of  thy  woe; 
And  build  as  to  Amphion's  strain, 
To  songs  of  cheer  thy  walls  again. 

How  shrivelled  in  thy  hot  distress 
The  primal  sin  of  selfishness! 
How  instant  rose,  to  take  thy  part. 
The  angel  in  the  human  heart! 

Ah !  not  in  vain  the  flames  that  tossed 

Above  thy  dreadful  holocaust; 

The  Christ  again  has  preached  through 

thee 
The  Gospel  of  Humanity. 

Then  lift  once  more  thy  towers  on  high. 
And  fret  with  spires  the  western  sky, 
To  tell  that  God  is  yet  with  us, 
And  love  is  still  miraculous. 

Nine 


^dgar  Mien   Foe 

from  ''TheBelir 

Hear  the  loud  alarum-bells — 

Brazen  bells! 

What  a  tale  of  terror,  now,  their 

turbulency  tells! 
In  the  startled  ear  of  night 
How  they  scream  out  their  affright! 
Too  much  horrified  to  speak, 
They  can  only  shriek,  shriek. 
Out  of  tune. 
In    a  clamorous  appeal  to  the  mercy  of 

the  fire, 
In  a  mad  expostulation  with  the  deaf  and 

frantic  fire. 
Leaping-  higher,  higher, 
With  a  desperate  desire 
And  a  resolute  endeavor 
Now— now  to  sit,  or  never, 
By  the  side. of  the  pale-faced  moon. 


Ten 


